


Uskerty - the aftermath

by vinyl_octopus



Series: Tumblr prompt fills [1]
Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Comfort, Developing Relationship, Fluff, Huddling For Warmth, M/M, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, Uskerty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-01
Updated: 2013-12-01
Packaged: 2018-01-03 03:19:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1065134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vinyl_octopus/pseuds/vinyl_octopus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I've been <a href="http://vinyl-octopus.tumblr.com/post/68518466152/prompt-me">taking prompts over on Tumblr</a>. I plan to crosspost any prompts and their fills to this series...</p>
<p><a href="http://tracionn.tumblr.com/">tracionn</a> asked: Oh may I prompt you indeed please? Please please? At the end of Uskerty, Martin is cold and soaked and needs a shower and a bed, and they are staying over night anyway. So please some caring fluffy moment in which Douglas and Martin share a room and Douglas takes care of Martin, helping and warming him? With cuddles and kisses :) Established or first time. Marlas. This would mean so, so much to me you have no idea. Just if you feel like it. Thank you for offering prompt fills!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Uskerty - the aftermath

He was cold. He was wet. He was _dirty_. Urgh. He was more than dirty. There were things on his uniform trousers that didn’t bear thinking about, to say nothing of the scuffs and tears from shimmying inexpertly up a tree. 

He was the proud owner of an unhappy goose that was secreted, for now, in a travel crate at the airport, ready to be flown back to Fitton, assuming there were no “developments” overnight. His ears were still ringing from Carolyn’s shouted lecture, which took place once the goose-scanning had been completed and it became obvious that they wouldn’t be able to fly out that evening. 

He shifted uncomfortably on his newspaper as the taxi turned another corner. It might have been protecting the car seat from him, but he was getting covered in damp newsprint. He let out a shivering sigh and stared out the window at the streetlights flashing past. 

Carolyn was still fuming in the front seat. Arthur was vibrating with sugary, pineapple-infused excitement on the farthest side of the backseat. Douglas’s tense shoulder, pressed gingerly and uncomfortably against Martin’s, at least provided a little warmth as Martin’s teeth began to chatter. 

Finally the cab pulled to a halt in front of a not-too-awful-looking hotel. Carolyn’s expression, already frosty, tightened further, but Uskerty was hardly a haven of tourism and last minute choices near the airfield were few and far between. She thrust her credit card at the driver, daring him to overcharge for imagined tolls, then swept into the hotel reception without waiting for her crew. 

Arthur bounded out of the car with predictable enthusiasm; Douglas followed slightly more sedately, rounding to the boot of the station wagon to retrieve Finn McCool and handing the dead beast over to Arthur. 

Martin felt as though he’d frozen in position. Literally. He was sodden, and stiff, and the filth was starting to dry. He forced open the door and levered himself out, pulling his worse-for-wear newspaper with him. 

He hobbled after the others into the blessed warmth of the carpeted foyer. 

Carolyn marched over with fire in her eyes. “Well, I’m not forking out for rooms for everyone. And I’m _certainly_ not sharing with you two. ” She thrust two keycards into Douglas’s hand. “They’re out of twin rooms. You’ll have to _snuggle_.” She turned on her heel. “Come on, Arthur.” 

“Ah, Carolyn?” Douglas voice was steely with disapproval as he waved a hand at Martin. “A word.” 

She turned back, eyebrow raised. 

Martin drooped under a wave of exhaustion and bone-deep cold. “Just let it go, D-Douglas.” He tugged his room key out of Douglas’s hand. “Or at l-least, l-leave m-me out of it. I n-need a sh-shower. A h- _hot_ one.” He trudged towards the lift, paying no mind to the simmering stand-off taking place behind him. 

The last thing he heard as the lift closed was Douglas’s outraged voice: _“You can’t possibly expect us to spend the night like this?”_ He sighed and dripped quietly onto the lift carpet. 

 

The room was a good couple of steps up from the sorts of places they usually stayed and Martin spent a blissful forty minutes scrubbing himself clean and soaking in the heat of a thundering shower. This was preceded by a lightly less blissful ten minutes spent shaking out the last few crumbs of seedcake from his pockets and trying to sponge the worst of the filth from his uniform. He’d debated whether or not to try to wash his shirt and underwear in the sink, but eventually concluded they’d have no chance of being dry enough to be comfortable before Carolyn dragged them back out to the airfield, so left them tangled in a heap on the vanity to deal with after his shower. 

When he emerged, pink-cheeked and floaty, wrapped in two thick fluffy towels, Douglas had finally deigned to join him in the room. Martin ducked back in to retrieve his uniform, holding it carefully out in front of him, pinched between his fingers, his face contorted with distaste. 

“Here,” Douglas’s arm appeared in front of him with a laundry bag. “Stick everything in there and I’ll whizz it down to the front desk. Since you’re not, um, exactly dressed.” 

Was it his imagination or was Douglas blushing? Martin was too steam-addled and exhausted to work it out. 

Douglas shook the bag, impatient at Martin’s apparent dawdling. “Come on, I got Carolyn to agree to stump up for dry cleaning. They can do it overnight if I get it down there in the next ten minutes.” 

Martin shook his head, grunted his thanks and dropped his manky bundle of clothes into the sack, passing it gratefully to Douglas before collapsing in a heap on the bed, dabbing half-heartedly at his freshly washed mop of curls. 

Douglas cleared his throat and disappeared. 

After a few minutes, Martin’s head had cleared a little. He’d started to grow a little chilly and wandered optimistically to the room’s wardrobe to see if they ran to bathrobes. It was wishful thinking, he realised, staring at the slightly rusted ironing board and selection of empty hangers. He suppressed a shiver as a wayward water droplet ran down his neck and tried not to think about the fact that he’d accidentally put his pants in the laundry bag with everything else. 

He sat carefully on the edge of the _only bed in the room_ and wrapped the towel around his shoulders a little tighter. Tried not to notice that the one wrapping his lower half had lost its steamy post-shower warmth and was now just… cold and wet. 

Douglas reappeared just as Martin was considering giving into to a proper bout of shivering. 

“Martin, you utter berk. What are you doing sitting there in wet towels? You’ll catch pneumonia!” Douglas’s scoffing voice was off-set by the soft look in his eyes as he strode towards the temperature control unit that Martin had failed to notice on the wall. A few decisive beeps and Martin felt a warm huff of air blow over him from the vent above the bed. He let out an accidental moan. Douglas chuckled, kicking off his shoes and shucking his jacket to reveal he was only wearing his undershirt beneath. “Threw my shirt in with your stuff,” he explained. 

Martin murmured understanding, only half listening as he curled himself towards the warm air, tipping his face up as if to a sunbeam. 

A heavy woollen thump next to him jolted him to awareness. Douglas smirked at him from beside the wardrobe where he was now hanging his jacket, and from which he had clearly just retrieved one of two thick blankets. “Might be a bit more comfortable than a wet towel?” 

“Hmmm.” Martin clutched at the blanket gratefully. It was dry, and hopefully wouldn’t be too itchy. He prayed it was clean. 

Douglas waved a hand at the bathroom. “I’ve ordered us some room service. Should be up in about half an hour or so. Meantime, I’m for a shower. Make yourself comfortable, Martin, and for god’s sake, make sure you get _warm_.” 

The door closed behind Douglas and Martin heard the shower start. He unwound the clammy towel from his waist with no small relief and used the other to squeeze the last of the water from his hair. He hung one towel on the back of the desk chair in the corner and the other off the bathroom handle… then he draped himself with the blanket like a toga. It was a bit too large and thick to work properly, but it was much warmer, if slightly pricklier than the towels. He curled himself directly under the heating vent and snaked one arm out to pluck the TV remote from the bedside table. 

Predictably, there was nothing on. He found himself on a rather odd local channel. It was good background noise but, as he scratched absentmindedly where the blanket was starting to irritate his shoulders, the television couldn’t engage his wandering thoughts. 

Most of them were of the uncomfortable variety. 

Most of them revolved around the fact that he was naked. And was going to have to share a bed. With Douglas. 

_Douglas._

He was still contemplating the situation when Douglas reappeared from the bathroom in nothing but a cloud of steam and his boxer shorts. 

Martin let out a little squeak that he hoped went unnoticed over the sound of the TV and the bathroom fan as Douglas moved around, hanging the remainder of his uniform and gathering Martin’s towels to hang properly over the heated rails in the bathroom. 

He returned to grab the second blanket and had just swathed himself in it – to Martin’s relief – when a knock at the door heralded the arrival of their food. 

The menu hadn’t left Douglas spoilt for choice and he’d ordered with one eye on Martin’s chattering teeth, so there was soup as well as burgers and chips. And just to make extra certain, he set the room kettle to boil for tea. 

It was almost impossible to eat while wrapped neck to ankle in blanket. Particularly, Martin discovered, when you had to eat while sitting on the bed, hunched over the bedside table. Douglas had, of course, nabbed the desk and chair. 

Soon modesty gave way to practicality. Douglas threw his blanket off entirely to make inroads to his burger. Martin, ever more conscious of his nudity, merely arranged the folds around his middle as he delicately licked the last of the salt and sauce from his fingers. 

He looked up to thank Douglas for organising the meal, only to find Douglas already staring at him intently. One chip still poised at his half open lips. Martin flushed and grabbed at the napkin, scrubbing at his face to remove whatever stray remnants had caught Douglas’s attention. Douglas coughed, popped the last chip in his mouth and pulled his blanket around himself again. “Tea?” His voice was hoarse as he swallowed the last mouthful. 

Martin nodded, still oddly embarrassed and now a little overwarm after all the hot food and the heater blowing down on him. He pushed his plate away and rearranged himself so he was sitting up against the headboard, legs out straight, blanket still carefully covering his lower half. He closed his eyes and listened to the gentle sounds of tea making, punctuated by the overenthusiastic TV presenter waxing lyrical about the weekend’s upcoming folk festival. 

He let out a deep sigh; despite the awkwardness, it was still nice to finally be _warm_ and _clean_ and _inside_. He shifted a bit, then let a little of the tension drain from his muscles, just as a soft touch to his shoulder forced him to open his eyes. 

“All right there, Captain?” Douglas nudged a mug into Martin’s hands, before lowering himself to sit on the other side of the bed with his own cup and deep sigh. He let his head thump back against the headboard, cup cradled in his hands. “What. A. Day.” 

Martin started to snigger as he mentally ran over the day’s ludicrous events, interrupting himself with a jaw-cracking yawn and nearly sloshing tea over his bare stomach. He winced and put the mug down, drawing the blanket back up with a belated shiver, trying not to wince at the scratchy weave against his skin. 

Douglas eyed Martin’s heavy eyelids. “Might be time to turn in, oh captain my captain.” 

“Hmph,” agreed Martin, wriggling back upright and stumbling into the bathroom to… “Oh!” He poked his head out, brandishing the shrink-wrapped toothpaste and toothbrush questioningly in one hand. 

“You just have to know who to ask.” Douglas grinned, raising his near-empty mug in a salute as Martin disappeared back in the bathroom, shaking his head. 

“Who to _charm_ , more like,” he muttered, with his own half smile, running the toothbrush gratefully under the tap before ridding his mouth of the oily burger aftertaste with much needed minty freshness. He finished his ablutions and returned to the room, where Douglas had extinguished all but the dim bedside light and was clearly waiting for his own turn to clean his teeth. He’d already turned down the covers. 

Martin hesitated, dancing uncomfortably from one foot to the other. 

“Douglas, I’m not sure—” 

A stuttering thud signalled the airconditioning unit switching itself off. 

Douglas flicked a few switches on the wall unit, but the thing was on a set timer. They’d had their lot for the night. “You were saying, sir?” 

Martin pulled his blanket resolutely tighter, ignoring the way it prickled. “Well, I can get in like this. Or-or, I’m sure I’ll be warm enough above the covers.” 

Douglas rolled his eyes and gestured to the pale skin of his own inner arm, which was already faintly pink. “Martin, I’ve already got an irritation from these things and I’m fairly certain my skin is nowhere near as sensitive as yours seems to be. Just… get in the bed. I’m sure it’s big enough that we don’t actually have to _spoon_. We’ll neither of us get any sleep if you’re wriggling around and _scratching_.” This last was added particularly pointedly and Martin realised he had indeed been scratching at his chest throughout Douglas’s entire lecture. 

Only the sound of genuine annoyance in Douglas’s voice encouraged Martin to obey, just as soon as Douglas was safely locked in the bathroom. 

The bed sheets were simultaneously soothingly smooth and icy cold. Martin tucked his own and Douglas’s cast-off blankets over the top of the covers, then tucked himself, huddled at the edge of the bed, shivering as the cold night seeped in past the last retreating fog of air conditioned heat. He clamped both hands down between his legs, partly to keep warm and partly in a desperate attempt at modesty. 

By the time Douglas came back into the room Martin was actually cold. Several layers of bedding doing little to store warmth when there was none to begin with. 

Douglas slid into the bed like some giant bear-shaped furnace. The heat radiated off him enticingly and Martin couldn’t help a little whimper as Douglas finally clicked off the light. 

Douglas was kind enough to ignore the sound, but if anything his body heat seemed to emphasise just how cold Martin was. After a few minutes, Martin had gone from Definitely Cold to Violently Shivering. 

“Oh, for goodness sake, Martin.” Douglas put out his hand to touch Martin’s shoulder, inhaling sharply when he felt just how cold the other man was. “Come here, this is ridiculous.” 

Martin _clung_ to the edge of the bed. 

But he was no match for Douglas, who simply peeled him away and settled him against his really rather pleasantly furred chest, warm, strong arm secured around his shoulders. He pulled the covers up as high as he could while still letting Martin breathe. 

“Even your _ears_ are like ice,” he growled conversationally, drawing Martin’s unwilling attention to the fact that beneath his ear an otherwise toasty nipple had been chilled into the upright position. Already tense and embarrassed, Martin squirmed to apologise and move, but Douglas merely tightened his arm and sank further down the bed so he could whisper into Martin’s hair. 

“Hush now. It’s all right. I, for one, am quite comfortable. You just relax, get warm, and get to sleep.” He rubbed Martin’s shoulder soothingly and gradually… gradually Martin stopped shivering and leaned into his first officer… eventually growing sleepy and relaxed enough to drape an arm of his own across the other man’s waist. 

As he finally drifted off, he wasn’t sure whether he felt or imagined the lightest feathering kiss to the top of his head. But by then he was too far gone to worry.


End file.
